One Wish In Manhattan (A Christmas Story) by Mandy Baggot Page B

the files she was holding.
    ‘Oh, Oliver, you gave me a scare. I didn’t realise you were still here.’
    He looked at his watch. ‘What are you still doing here? It’s almost seven.’
    ‘I had a couple of things to finish off while it’s quiet.’ She put the files into his in-tray. ‘These can all wait for the morning.’
    ‘Then you should go home,’ he said, putting the ball back on the table.
    ‘I will if you will,’ Clara said, folding her arms across her chest.
    ‘As fun as it is to play parlour games with you, I’m not really in the right frame of mind.’ He let out a breath and picked up one of the files she had just delivered.
    ‘The meeting with your mother didn’t go so well.’
    ‘It was fine. She was just being a mother and I was playing the son role very badly. Same old.’
    ‘She told me you’ve refused to go home for Christmas,’ Clara said, adjusting her stance. ‘That you said you were working.’
    ‘I will be.’
    ‘Why? We’re not open for business.’
    ‘Believe it or not, Clara, there’s a great deal of stuff that goes on in the background here.’
    ‘Nothing that can’t stop for Christmas Day.’
    ‘Maybe some of us don’t want to stop for a sentimental overdose of carols, candy canes and candles at midnight.’
    ‘You heard what the doctor said yesterday.’
    Why wasn’t she giving up? He just wanted to be left alone. Wanting to spend one day in December doing something different to everyone else shouldn’t be a crime. And he shouldn’t be constantly judged for it. ‘The doctor saw the business suit and made a call based on that.’
    ‘Oliver, it was a bit more than that.’
    He shook his head. ‘Is there a point to this conversation?’
    ‘Well, that depends.’
    She was looking at him with an expression that said I’m going to treat you like a naughty schoolboy until you start listening .
    ‘On what?’ he asked.
    ‘Whether you want my help with the McArthur Foundation fundraiser.’
    He stood up then, shaking his head and moving towards the bank of windows. ‘She told you that too.’
    ‘She’s worried about you, Oliver, and so am I,’ Clara continued.
    He looked out at the Manhattan skyline, lights shining bright as the sky turned black. He could just see the inky tidal movement of the Hudson River, ferries creeping back to the docks. The snow was falling again, thick flurries settling over the thin layer left from the previous night. Here he was, viewing the most incredible scene, an enviable setting and all he felt was trapped.
    ‘Don’t waste your energy on me, Clara. I’m a lost cause.’ The words were out before he’d even thought about it. Did he really believe that? And if he did, did he really want Clara to know? She was his personal assistant not his counsellor.
    ‘Phooey!’
    ‘I’m twenty-nine, Clara. You do the math.’
    ‘If I thought you were going to drop dead so soon I would have left before you became the CEO.’
    ‘No you wouldn’t. There isn’t another employer in the city who pays more.’
    He heard Clara’s exhalation and regretted not thinking again. He didn’t change position. If he kept focussing on the outside she might just leave.
    ‘And that’s why you think I work for Drummond Global? Why I work for you?’
    There was definite resentment in her tone now. He’d done that. Just by making a stupid, flippant remark.
    ‘It’s why most other people work here.’
    ‘If that’s what you truly believe, Oliver, then you have even bigger problems than I thought.’
    He nodded to himself. He didn’t need to be told that. He was just a screw-up waiting to die. He turned around just in time for the slam of his office door to tell him he was pretty much burning his bridges with everyone.
    His phone vibrated in the pocket of his trousers. Pulling it free, he checked the display. He pressed to answer and put it to his ear. ‘Hey.’
    ‘Hey, Drummond, what’s happening in the financial sector? Gone into oil